


Track of Time

by fairyScorpicus



Category: Markiplier TV (Web Series), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Blood, Blood and Injury, Injury, Mark Fischbach Egos, Medical Inaccuracies, Whumptober, Whumptober 2020, although I did try, probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:33:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28640790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairyScorpicus/pseuds/fairyScorpicus
Summary: Dr. Iplier whump ficWhumptober Day 10: They Look so Pretty When They BleedBlood Loss | Internal Bleeding | Trail of Bloodshort thing
Comments: 3
Kudos: 4





	Track of Time

Drip. Drip.

He pressed his hand harder against the wound.

_ The human body can lose about 40% of their blood before passing out, about 66% before death, his mind reminded him. _

“Shut up,” he hissed. “That can’t help me now.”

He tore off the bottom of his sweater and tied it to the wound. It was a pathetic attempt to help stem the blood for such a large wound, but it was better than nothing. He needed a hospital. He needed a first aid kit.

What was the point of being a doctor if he couldn’t help himself?

_ Keep moving around to a minimum. Elevate the wound if you can. Make a tourniquet. _

Dr. Iplier swore quietly to himself as he ran around the corner of a hallway. He couldn’t do any of those things. He had to keep moving, keep running, to get away. He knew without a doubt that his family was looking for him, but so were  _ they _ .

_ Come on, Host, Dark, _ he thought, stumbling along. It wouldn’t be long for  _ they _ found the trail of blood he was leaving behind, wouldn’t be long before  _ they  _ caught up. He whimpered into the turtleneck of his sweater at the thought of  _ them _ finding him.

He turned another corner before his leg gave out on him, and he collapsed with a cry. With a desperate noise, he pressed his other hand against the wall for support, smearing blood on it, and tried to stand, but his leg wouldn’t cooperate. He pressed his back against the wall and examined his leg. His flimsy bandage was already soaked with blood. He tore off another strip off the bottom of his sweater and shivered as his bare lower back made contact with the cold wall. He wished he had his lab coat. Didn’t he have a few supplies tucked away in those big pockets? Maybe nothing that would really help him, but at this point, anything to help stop the blood loss would do. He pressed both hands against the wound, grimacing as his thigh flared in pain in response.

Time was running out.

How much blood had he lost already? He shivered. 

_ Such a wound would make him lose blood at the rate of about- _

He pressed his head against the wall in a futile attempt to drown out the thoughts.

_ Side effects of minor blood loss include nausea, anxiety, increased heart rate and respiratory rate, losing feeling in your hands and feet. _

He whimpered again. He had no way to tell whether he was feeling some of those symptoms or not because he had been running from people who wanted to hurt him. He flexed his fingers carefully, but he wasn’t sure if he was losing feeling in them or not.

_ Side effects of major blood loss include confusion, disorientation, rapid and shallow breathing, weakness and fatigue, drowsiness, and cool, sweaty ski _ n-

He shivered and then whined in the back of his throat.

_ Shut up, _ he told himself.  _ You’re just imagining it. It’s human nature to automatically start mimicking the symptoms. _

He still sounded dangerously close to hyperventilating.

He looked up and down the hallway. Empty. No one had found him yet. He wasn’t sure if he felt relieved or not. Perhaps his family was fighting them, defeating them, and his family was only starting to look for him now, he thought hopefully.

He blinked slowly. Shivered. How much time had passed since he had escaped? He didn’t know. He considered trying to get up again but decided against it. His leg hurt too much and he felt too tired. Reluctantly, he decided to lay on the floor instead of propping himself against the wall. He couldn’t elevate his wound, but at least he could make his body as flat as possible.

Carefully, he laid himself down. His body protested in response but he ignored it.

He stared at the ceiling, hands still pressing against his leg.

He lost track of time. He could hear his heart pumping wildly in his chest. He couldn’t say it was because of his run anymore. He noticed his grip on his leg loosened and he tightened it. His hands felt numb. He pressed harder. How long until

He lost track of time. He felt woozy. What was he doing laying on the floor? He tried to sit up but couldn’t. He went to use the wall as support but paused. His hand was covered in red. Was that blood? He searched for the wound and found it on his leg. He pressed his hands against his leg. How did he get hurt? He felt tears running down his face. His vision was blurry. He felt so

He lost track of time. He felt horrible. He just wanted to fall asleep. He tilted his hand to the side and noticed there was something red on the floor. He thought it was blood but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He blinked and

He lost track of time. He felt so tired. He was laying on something wet. He could hear footsteps approaching. He didn’t care. He closed his eyes.


End file.
